#jordan stempleman

[jeffalessandrelli]

Jeff Alessandrelli reviews Jordan Stempleman's Wallop on KROnline. "Courtesy of Charles Olson, Jordan Stempleman’s Wallop begins with a telling epigraph..."

[ratrapss]

from WALLOP by Jordan Stempleman (Magic Helicopter Press 2015)

[jordanstempleman]

Today is the official born on date of Wallop. If you buy a copy of my book, I'll make you a personalized mp3 mixtape that may just include a rare recording of Vin Diesel and DMX doing a duet of "Under Pressure."

http://magichelicopterpress.com/wallop.html

[goatinthesnow]

[bearreview-blog]

Jordan Stempleman reads "In Every Dream Home A Heartache," which can be found in our first issue.

[noojournal]

Anne Boyer's "Buffalo Idyll #1" from NOÖ Weekly. Art from Das Puppendorf. Check out the rest of the Kansas City NOÖ Weekly edition guest-edited by Jordan Stempleman!

[noojournal]

Exciting Monday news! We're not sure what the weather is like in Kansas City right now—probably not great—but we know the writing is excellent! That's because Jordan Stempleman guest edited a brand new edition of NOÖ Weekly featuring eight poets and writers with KC roots! Leading off with three brand new James Tate poems (!), this NOÖ Weekly also features Anne Boyer, Casey Hannan, Lesley Ann Wheeler, Bridget Lowe, Ryan MacDonald, Dan Magers, and Teal Wilson. CHiPs and unicorns and idylls from the heart of the land heart. Many thanks to editorial assistants Blake Bergeron and Jane Dykema for their work decorating and editing these pieces. Check it out! Please share! Don't go outside! It's so gross outside!

[noojournal]

New NOÖ Weekly Guest Edited by Jordan Stempleman COMING SOON!

Remember the last NOÖ Weekly guest edited by Mel Bosworth? Remember how much you loved it? Starting to wonder when the next NOÖ Weekly is due to arrive? Starting to wonder when I'm going to stop asking questions?

Wonder no more, because the next NOÖ Weekly is COMING SOON! The upcoming Weekly is guest edited by JORDAN STEMPLEMAN, author of No, Not Today (Magic Helicopter Press, 2012) and editor of The Continental Review.

(AND I'm done asking questions!)  

The issue will feature writers living in or connected to Kansas City (quick, guess which state Kansas City is in) including:

Anne Boyer Bridget Lowe Casey Hannan Dan Magers Lesley Wheeler Ryan MacDonald Teal Wilson and James Tate

Psyched? I bet you are. Want it right now? Sorry, I said COMING SOON, not COMING RIGHT NOW. Get it together...

Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to give you a sneak peek BUT THAT'S ALL YOU GET (for now).

Enjoy!

"MANUAL FOR SELF-IMPROVEMENT" —James Tate

            It was the first day of my life. That’s what I told my-

self. I walked over the bridge of contentment and followed

the path of self-possession. The first man I met punched me

in the mouth and I saw stars, and the blood running down my

throat. I said, “Did I say something to offend you?” He said,

“You’re full of shit, that’s all.” “Excuse me, I have no memory

of our having met before,” I said. “We haven’t. I just wanted us

to get off to a good start. I know your type and I can’t stand

them,” he said. “And what type is that?” I said. “You think

you’re better than everybody else. You’re smug, that’s what

you are,” he said. “You’re wrong about that. I’m very humble,”

I said. He spit on me, then walked away into the trees. I sat

there twiddling my thumbs until a large hawk flew over. I

could see that it held a mouse in its talons. “Goodbye, little

mouse,” I said. “I’m just going for a little ride. I’ll be

back, trust me,” it said. I waved to him and he was gone. I

stood up and walked for a while. I came to a lake, which was

just a glass of water on an abandoned beach. I dove in anyway

and swam around for some minutes until I banged my head on the

side of the glass. I climbed out and shook my head. A bee

buzzed my nose. “Why are you doing that?” I said. “Oh, excuse

me, I thought you were a tulip,” it said, then flew off. I didn’t

know I looked like a tulip. Well, maybe when wet. I walked a

little further. Nothing looked familiar. I was in a strange

land. There was a bamboo curtain behind which sat a little

mouse. “Hello, friend,” he said. I looked again. He wasn’t

there. And, then, neither was I.